


The Case of the Missing Soul

by potentiallyAWKWARD



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bottom!Sherlock, Dom!John, M/M, PWP, Public Sex, although I'm all for toplock, bottomlock, butt plug, sub!Sherlock, top!John
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2016-05-14
Packaged: 2018-06-08 07:53:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6845971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/potentiallyAWKWARD/pseuds/potentiallyAWKWARD
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John attempts to teach Sherlock a lesson while on a case. Sexy fun times ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Case of the Missing Soul

**Author's Note:**

> It has been FOREVER since I wrote smut. Like, a concerning amount of time. I had a long car ride and an overactive libido, so enjoy...

Sherlock's walk was almost undetectably off. His legs were several centimeters wider apart than usual, and his knees didn't bend quite as much.

No one, not even Scotland Yard, would know about John's little game.

They were in the perfect place, too- the middle of a busy crossroads where a perfectly healthy man had dropped dead. Noise from cars and tourists milling about would cover up the slight buzzing sound of Sherlock's plug.

It was off, of course- Sherlock was in the middle of a conversation with a witness and John was still a hundred metres away.

By the time John had caught up to Sherlock, Lestrade was hanging up his phone and walking toward the two. John sniffed to hide a smile, fingering the small, fob-like remote in his coat pocket.

"Sherlock. Glad you could make it. That was-"

"Forensics. They didn't detect any substances except-"

Sherlock's back went ram-rod straight, his mouth popping open slightly and a flush rising to his cheeks. Just as soon as he'd gasped the vibrations against his prostate ceased.

He cleared his throat, casting a discreet look at John before continuing. "Except Paracetamol."

Lestrade cocked an eyebrow. "Right. You okay?"

"Yes," Sherlock snapped. "Obviously you're too dim to have seen the face someone makes when they have a breakthrough."

"Oh? Then you've solved it?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "No, I've only just narrowed it down to twelve possible scenarios."

Before Lestrade could respond, Sherlock turned and walked away. John followed, trying not to laugh. This'll teach the prick not to accept a challenge just to have a challenge.

"We need to talk to witnesses, get firsthand accounts," Sherlock muttered to John.

"You mean you need to talk to them and I need to be quiet and go with it," John corrected.

Sherlock didn't respond, instead mussing up his hair and flipping up his collar. Sitting in an ambulance with a blanket around her shoulders was a young woman, maybe 30. She seemed calm enough, considering.

"Likes bad boys and is looking for a rebound," Sherlock smirked. "Perfect."

Sherlock stepped up to her, suddenly bubbling with nervous excitement. "So you saw what happened then?" he asked quietly, as if trying not to attract attention.

"Yes," the girl replied, eyeing Sherlock warily. "Why?"

Sherlock looked at me, a boyish smile spreading across his lips. "Well, me and my mate snuck under the yellow tape to see the body. John's really into medical shit, but I'm just in it for the adrenaline."

Medical shit. John nearly snorted.

"Oh, an adrenaline junkie?" she asked, leaning forward. Even I could see the signs of her sudden interest in Sherlock.

"Y-es!" Sherlock hissed, face contorting as the vibrations suddenly shook through him. "Danger's my middle name," he finished, voice husky.

 

"He'll do anything, just for kicks," John added, watching Sherlock out of the corner of his eyes. His hands, neatly clasped behind his back, were turning white from him holding them so tightly. His lips were parted and he was breathing shallowly, struggling to keep his eyes open. A rather pretty pink flush was climbing up his neck.

John clicked the button again and the vibrations stopped. Sherlock sniffed and ran a hand idly over his trench coat suspiciously close to his crotch. For a split second John could see the bulge, but his hand was behind his back again before John could get a closer look. Sherlock cast John a mischievous smirk. Bloody tease.

Through her shirt, John could see the woman's nipples hardening. Her pupils were dilated slightly, and she pressed her legs together discreetly. "You'll do almost anything just for shits and giggles?" She asked, voice slightly husky. John could almost feel the hormones floating through the air.

"So you wouldn't mind telling me what you saw, then? I'd really like it," Sherlock grinned at her, eyes slowly raking down her body.

John sniffed and, bouncing on the balls of his feet, looked away. Yes, Sherlock was acting, but it was a rather good act, and John was notoriously jealous. He would have no qualms about dragging Sherlock into the nearest bathroom and fucking him senseless, but he thought it would be best to avoid that.

"Well, the dead man just looked at his watch, glanced around as if he was looking for a cab or something, and he just collapsed. Bloody weird."

John heard Sherlock take a step forward. "Oh? Anything else?" His voice was hardly above a whisper and husky. John felt his cock twitch. Damn it, now was not the time.

"He did... stare at this one bus... heading for Surrey," the girl breathed. John could almost see it- Sherlock's lips a centimetre from hers, one hand at the base of her neck and the other stroking her lower lip. With his long, expert, wicked fingers-

"Okay, you've got what you wanted. Let's get a bite to eat," John interrupted, turning and seeing the two just as he'd pictured them.

He pressed the button again and Sherlock actually let out a growl, thumb pausing against the girl's lip.

"Fine," Sherlock sighed, standing. "Perhaps we'll meet again," Sherlock said to the girl and turned to John. "After you, John."

The last word came out as almost a moan as John pressed the button to increase the intensity of the vibration.

John marched into the nearest cafe and stood at the counter. Sherlock was close behind, and now that he was out of earshot his breathing was ragged and uneven.

"You're ordering for us," John muttered to Sherlock.

Sherlock nodded, pupils blown so that the icy blue was nearly eclipsed.

The cashier walked up to them. "Hi! What can I get you?"

Sherlock paused and John nodded slightly, so Sherlock took a step forward.

"We'll have a- ahhh- fish and chips and- mmm- a OH MY GOD- b-burger," Sherlock stumbled over his words, finally crying out when John turned the vibrator to it's highest intensity. John closed his eyes to refrain from bending him over this counter and having him right here in front of everyone.

The cashier blinked. "Okay, that'll be £15.99.

Sherlock reached in his pocket, fished out a twenty pound note, and nearly slammed it into the counter.

"Keep the change," Sherlock said, voice dripping with lust. John shuffled as his cock stirred again.

"I'm using the loo," John said loudly, knowing that Sherlock would follow after a minute as to not cause any suspicion.

Luckily for the two, the cafe was completely empty and so they had the bathroom to themselves. Still, the prospect of having someone walk in was possible.

John unzipped his trousers and pulled out his half-erect cock, spitting into his hand and stroking it slowly. Just as he was getting to his full length, Sherlock walked in.

"Turn it off," Sherlock gasped as the door closed. His legs were shaking and his face was pink. "John, please."

"Stall," John commanded, reaching into his pocket. "Trousers down, coat off, bent over the toilet with your forearms on the tank." He clicked the vibrator off and Sherlock gasped, stumbling to the closest stall. He heard the zipper go down and Sherlock's trousers hit the floor.

John, still idly stroking his cock, slowly made his way to the stall. He found Sherlock exactly as he'd ordered, his perfect, round arse sticking out and his head bowed as he tried to even his breathing. John could see his very hard cock twitching against his stomach.

"I'm going to close the stall door, then take out the plug," John stated.

Sherlock nodded.

"Say it."

"I understand," Sherlock cried impatiently. "Just hurry."

John frowned as he closed and locked the door. Sure, it was tight quarters, but it'd do for the moment. He turned and rolled up the arms of his jumper to his elbows. He knelt down behind Sherlock, reverently kissing his ivory ass cheek.

"Relax," John breathed as he gripped the end of the prostrate vibrator. This was always Sherlock's least favourite part.

Slowly, John pulled the purple toy out of his lover's arse, the other hand kneading his cheek and his mouth teasing the other.

When it finally came out, Sherlock's arse gaped for a moment in the cool air, but immediately the pink bud closed.

John reached into his pocket and pulled out a small tube of lube. "Do you feel stretched enough?"

"Yes, sir," Sherlock breathed. "Please, just... take me." He sounded so open and vulnerable, and John nearly decided to slam into him without lubing up. However, his brain was only a split second slower than his dick.

"Yes, pet. I need to prepare," John groaned. He squirted a generous amount of the lube into his hand and slowly stroked himself, making sure his entire shaft was coated with the clear jam-like stuff.

Next he put some on his fingers and pet Sherlock's tight arsehole, bringing an almost inhuman moan out of the detective. John stuck his first and middle finger into Sherlock and groaned. "You're so tight, love. Are you sure you're ready?"

"Yes!" he cried out, pushing his bum back so John's fingers were in him to the third knuckle.

John pulled out his fingers. Sherlock sighed at the sudden emptiness. John gripped his cock and put it to his entrance, slowly putting the very tip in. Sherlock whimpered but didn't move.

"Who do you belong to?" John whispered, eyes closing and face screwing up as he pushed further and further into Sherlock.

"You," Sherlock moaned, spreading his legs wider. "Always you."

"And who does this-" John roughly grabbed Sherlock's arse cheeks. "belong to?"

"You," Sherlock gasped.

John stopped once he was all the way into Sherlock. He rotated his hips slowly, bringing a high keening noise out of Sherlock. "I nearly took you then and there at that counter, Sherlock. You're so fucking sexy when you squirm. God, you're tight," John growled.

He slowly drew out of Sherlock until only his head was inside of him. "You can toss yourself off, but don't cum," John warned. Immediately one of Sherlock's arms left the tank and went to his cock.

"Such a greedy little slut. Letting his Master fuck him in the loo while he wanks," John growled, suddenly snapping his hips and filling Sherlock.

The detective cried out, head falling further down. John pulled out quickly and thrust back in, gyrating his hips again.

"Such a good little pet... begging for my cock... taking it like a slut," John groaned, continuing to fuck Sherlock's arsehole.

Sherlock whimpered his agreement, arm working furiously at his own cock.

"Say it. Tell me you're a slut," John commanded hoarsely, slamming into Sherlock again.

Sherlock took a shuddering breath as John rotated his hips, his thumb rubbing over his sensitive head. "I'm your slut, your dirty little slut, and I want your cock up my ass and down my throat and- oh FUCK, right there." His knees nearly gave out as John brushed his prostate. "Oh my God, oh fucking hell, yessss..."

John smiled victoriously, sweat beading on his forehead as he increased his tempo and, Sherlock meeting him thrust for thrust and making unintelligible sounds.

"That's right... feel my cock... you're so tight, love... fuck, so good..."

John could feel his orgasm coming, but he slowed down his thrusts until he was barely moving. He leaned forward and rested his sweaty forehead on Sherlock's back.

"Love, would you like to ride my cock?" John asked, breathing uneven.

"Y-yes," Sherlock whispered, legs shaking. It seems he was close to cumming as well.

John pulled out of Sherlock, eliciting a moan from him, and scooted around Sherlock. He set the lid down to the toilet and sat down (for he hadn't taken off his trousers, only unzipped them.) Sherlock immediately straddled John, waiting for John's signal.

John was staring at the floor. "Sherlock, your pants and trousers are getting wrinkled, love. And if someone comes in, wouldn't it be odd to see trousers laying on the floor?"

Sherlock's jaw clenched. "Ever a soldier, John," he smirked, bending down to pick up and fold his clothes and giving John quite a pretty view indeed.

Sherlock stood and placed his pants and trousers on the other toilet tissue box and even hung his coat on the small hook on the door.

"Bend over again," John commanded, and Sherlock obeyed.

His pink bud stood out from his ivory skin, and John looked at his arse for several seconds before finally leaning forward, spreading his cheeks further apart, and licking around Sherlock's arsehole.

Sherlock moaned, relaxing his sphincter. John hummed appreciatively and teased his tongue in and out of Sherlock.

After several minutes of this, John pulled back and sighed as if he had just finished a particularly delicious meal. "Your arsehole is so pretty, Sherlock. Especially after I've been fucking it," John said, voice dark and promising.

Sherlock stood and turned, his neck to hairline red, probably from the blood rush. Between them stood Sherlock's dribbling cock, the head red and swollen. John stroked his cock, bringing it back to attention. "When we get home we'll have a proper fuck and I will suck that pretty cock of yours, but now is not the time nor place."

Once again, Sherlock straddled John. He nodded, closing his heavy-lidded eyes. Sherlock reached behind him and grasped John's cock, stroking it a few times reverently before slowly sitting, impaling himself with John's cock.

By the time Sherlock had taken his full length in, John's mouth was a perfect O of pleasure. "Love, you feel so good. Jesus Christ, you're tight."

As if to prove his point, Sherlock clenched his arse, and John's hips bucked. A string of swear words poured out of his mouth and he grabbed Sherlock's bony hips. Sherlock slowly stood until he was almost empty, and he sat down again, faster this time.

John's eyes opened and met Sherlock's. He nodded at the detective and spat in his hand as Sherlock rose and fell again.

He grabbed Sherlock's cock and began stroking it with quick, concise strokes. Every time he reached his head, he ran his thumb over the leaking slit. Sherlock whimpered, swiveling his hips.

"Ohhh," they both moaned at the same time. Sherlock rose a few centimetres and sat back down, squarely hitting his prostate.

John quickened his strokes, biceps rippling as he jerked Sherlock off. "Love, I won't make it much longer. I want you to cum with me," he breathed.

Sherlock nodded, curls bouncing, as he continuing his bobbing on John's dick.

They both paused when the bathroom door squeaked open and someone walked across the floor to the urinals. Sherlock looked desperately at John, who nodded tersely.

Sherlock began riding John more vigorously, his head thrown back in silent ecstasy. John's hand was beginning to slow as his orgasm flew at him, and at the last second, he bucked his hips and hit Sherlock in a spot he couldn't quite reach on his own.

John's eyes screwed shut and his mouth opened wide as he came inside Sherlock, and as the first spurt of hot semen erupted out of John's cock, Sherlock leaned forward and dug his teeth into John's shoulder to keep from crying out as he found his release as well.

They sat in silence for several minutes as the stranger did his business, washed his hands, and finally left.

As soon as the door swung shut, Sherlock began to nuzzle John's neck and jawbone.

"Love, what is it?" John asked as his cock went limp inside Sherlock.

"I want to cuddle," Sherlock replied, sounding young and innocent and vulnerable.

John smiled, kissing the top of Sherlock's head. "Of course, love. Put your clothes on and we'll leave right now."

Sherlock slowly stood, moaning at the sudden emptiness his body felt. He quickly put on his trousers, shoved his pants in his coat pocket, and shrugged that on.

John stood, tucking his limp dick in his trousers and zipped them. He straightened his jumper and felt the wet patch on his shoulder where Sherlock had bitten him.

Sherlock opened the door and walked to the sink, washing his hands. "Did I hurt you? Are you angry?" Sherlock asked quietly.

John smiled as he turned the knob on the tap next to Sherlock's. "No, love. In fact, if I wasn't already in the middle of cumming, that would've tipped me over the edge."

Sherlock grinned shyly. "I didn't want to make any noise."

John snorted. "That poor bloke has no idea what he walked in on."

The exited the bathroom together, heading straight for the door and leaving their uneaten food at the counter. The cashier began to call them, but instead he shrugged and popped a fry into his mouth.

The only other man in the room, the man who'd walked in on John and Sherlock, sat at the bar. He was smirking into his cup of tea as he sent out a quick text:

'Confirmed. Walked in on them just now in the bathroom at the cafe. Poor sods won't know what hit them.  
-M'

**Author's Note:**

> If someone is artsy and feels like making a fanart inspired by this, I would freaking love it! Just post it on Tumblr and tag me @castiel-the-consulting-jotun!


End file.
